


Counting Sheep

by megyal



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Crack, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-11
Updated: 2007-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:55:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal





	Counting Sheep

"Um. Patrick? Patrick.... Patrick. Hey. Wake up."

Patrick spun over rapidly, full of fury because _goddamnit_ , he had fallen asleep approximately three minutes ago. If it had been Joe shaking him, or even Petey, he would have tried to choke them or something. But it was Andy there, kneeling by the side of his bunk and frowning down at him, his wavy hair flat on one side and kicking up wildly on the other. So he didn't choke Andy, because it was _Andy_ , and attempting stuff like that on a vegan drummer would be simply begging for his ass to be kicked. He was still going to be a bastard, though.

"Yeah. Yeah, Andy, yeah, _what_?"

"Don't _what_ me," Andy said sternly. One day, Patrick mused, Andy would make a great parent; today was not that day. Patrick scowled at him.

"Is there something I can _help_ you with, Andrew?" he hissed, shoving the covers down and kicking with his feet in a strange mini-tantrum. Andy's frown deepened. Then there was a bleating sound from the living area of the bus and Patrick's flailing feet paused in mid-air.

"Oh holy shit," he whispered loudly and Andy's frowned cleared up just a little in a vague sort of amusement. He jerked his head to the side, handing Patrick his glasses and stepping back to let Patrick get up. For a minute, when Patrick finally rose up, their bodies were inches apart and Patrick flushed. Andy smiled down at him a little.

"Which one is it this time?" Patrick said, trying to sound weary of the whole situation and not too overly excited that he was standing near those talented hands. Andy gave a verbose shrug.

"Number 45. Pete wants to keep this one."

"Fuck no," Patrick spat, heading around Andy with eerie speed and bursting into the living area. He was expecting a fully-grown sheep, like the other times; instead, sprawled comfortably in the fucking _sofa_ with Pete was a sweet little lamb. There was a small yellow tag on its ear marked with the number '45', just as Patrick pictured it when he counted sheep in his attempts to fall asleep. Its dark nose twitched at Patrick's arrival and Pete hugged it close to himself.

"Okay, you're not sending this one back," Pete argued before Patrick could open his mouth. "You keep _willing_ them here--"

"I don't _will_ them! I don't do anything like that, I just count them and they keep turning up--"

"--and that's fucking animal _cruelty_ , going back and forth like that. Ask Andy. It's not _fair_."

Joe attacked a large Starbucks venti-cup with gusto. "You're just saying that because you want this one," he pointed out and made a face at Pete's glare. Andy brushed idly at his black t-shirt.

"Look, this is a _tour bus_ , Pete. Having a lamb on a bus is not really the best of ideas." Andy's voice was reasonable, but Pete's face was still mutinous. "How are you going to feed it? And I know you won't have any time to clean up after it, you know."

"But--"

"No." Andy was firm and Patrick bit his lip at the authoritative tone. "Patrick. Get rid of it."

Pete gave Patrick the most potent of large-brown-puppy dog eyes and Patrick very nearly caved. A poke in his back jolted him out of _that_ shit and he sighed. He snapped his fingers at the lamb, which blinked at him reproachfully.

"Go on," Patrick said softly. "Get."

The lamb bleated plaintively as it faded out of Pete's arms; Pete look disappointed, but not overly distraught.

"It was so _cute_ ," he mourned and Joe patted him on the back in commiseration. Pete cheered up mightily as Joe handed him a cup of coffee.

Patrick shook his head and turned to go back to the bunks, but Andy's hand at his elbow stopped him.

"Dude, there are other ways of falling asleep. You should really try them." Andy's voice was raspy in his ear and Patrick was a little mortified to feel himself shudder. He didn't know what exactly made him respond in the way he did; maybe it was the way Andy's forefinger was making gentle circles in the soft skin on of his inner elbow, pressing slightly on the vein in rhythm. He turned his face a little and Andy's eyes were right there.

"So, what, you're offering to help?"

Andy's eyes widened just a little; even the hazel flecks seemed surprised. Then they narrowed and Andy let go, stroking down lightly on the inside of Patrick's arm until his hand fell away completely.

"Maybe." Andy's murmur was so low, Patrick nearly missed it as he brushed past to get to the fridge; He did not miss the way Andy looked at him out of the corner of his eye as he went, eyebrows slyly raised.

***

"Did you know when you google "lamb", the first entry you get is about Gwen Stefani? It's crazy, man," Pete said absently, the light of the laptop shining in his face. Patrick turned his head as he lay face-up in the large bed and stared at Pete. Why he was still in Patrick's hotel-room after Patrick had specifically told him to get the fuck out was not really a mystery; Most times, a lot of what Patrick yelled at him went in one ear and out the other. Patrick sighed.

" _Why_ are you googling _lamb_ , Pete?" Patrick feared the response.

"So that I can find out how to take care of the next one when you count it up." Pete clicked rapidly. "Right, so you have to type in _lamb plus sheep_ if you want to see pictures of actual animals. Jesus. What is this world coming to? And make sure you try stopping at 45 again, I'd like that lamb back."

This was what made Pete the enterprise he was, that persistent nature. Joe called it being pushy, but Patrick was too burned-out to argue semantics with himself right at that moment. He got up out of bed, yanked the laptop out of Pete's lap and manhandled them both out of the room, to Pete’s indignant curses.

He opened back the door to a firm knock, ready to kick Pete out again, and faltered at Andy's solemn stare.

"You're _not_ counting up any lambs for him tonight," Andy said, his parenting voice in full effect. "I can hear him singing about _on his farm he had a lamb_ from my room. I'm serious about this, Patrick."

"What, you think I do this on purpose?" Patrick snapped even as he backed away to let Andy get further into the room. "That's the only way I know to get to sleep. I'm so fucking tired all the time, and yet I'm always on-edge. Counting sheep _relaxes_ me."

"There's this report that says counting sheep is not really that effective," Andy said mildly as he scratched the back of one bare foot with the other. "Get into bed."

"Works for me," Patrick retorted and realized he was obeying Andy without question. He paused forcibly. "Yeah, ok, why should I get into bed because you say so?"

" _God_." Andy pulled off his t-shirt and Patrick stared. "You're such a stubborn asshole, sometimes. Really. I'm going to get you asleep."

Patrick's mouth went dry.

"Um. How exactly are you going to do that?"

Andy's look was calculating.

"A massage, of course...what? You were hoping for something else?"

Patrick huffed and lay down on the bed. After much arguing, Andy convinced him to get his shirt off as well. Patrick waited in a mixture of annoyance and anticipation as Andy rummaged through his luggage to find some lotion.

"Okay," Andy said as he straddled Patrick's back. "Don't think about your damned sheep. I don't know how you do it and I actually don't care, but just don't picture them. At all."

"I don't know what else to picture," Patrick tried to grumble, but the slow stroke of Andy's hands up his back pushed away the irritation. He wriggled as the thumbs rubbed at his shoulders, right where knots had locked themselves in the curve of his neck. Andy usually gave the best massages; his hands weren't as calloused as everyone thought they would be; and those fingers were supple, maybe from all the Game-boy challenges...and the drumming, don't forget the drumming. The hands stroked back down and Patrick sighed.

"What are you thinking about?" Andy's hands were moving slower and Patrick's mind was now floating in molasses; Andy was leaning forward, the long strands of his hair brushing against Patrick's bare skin. "Sheep?"

"No...well, one tried to pop in awhile ago, but...I guess what you're doing is working."

"Is it."

"It is."

Patrick only smiled when he felt Andy's mouth touch against his shoulder-blade. He laughed a little and felt Andy chuckled in response.

"Dude, you didn't need the sheep as an excuse to seduce me. I'm pretty much open territory when it comes to you."

"Yeah. I know. But we didn't have the time 'til now...and I _really_ want to get rid of them. Pete's getting on my last nerve about hay. Do sheep eat hay? I doubt this, very much."

Patrick struggled a little under Andy until he backed off and they lay facing each other. Andy's eyes were wide and amused.

"Sheep eat grass and weeds...and it's only been a couple of weeks since this sheep-popping has been going on."

Andy's eyes boggled with mirth. "Sheep-popping! That sounds pretty bestial. You're a freak, Stump."

Patrick leaned forward and pressed their mouths together, weaving his fingers through the dark silky fall of hair, reveling in the stubble Andy maintained was sexy. He thought it was pretty hot too, but wild Petes couldn't drag that shit out of him. Andy bit his lip and then licked it, sneaking his hand past the waistband of Patrick's boxers.

"Pete is going to be pretty upset over the lack of sheep, here," Patrick murmured, arching into Andy's hand on his cock. He pressed further, squeezing against Andy's own erection. Andy gave a strained laugh.

"He'll survive, somehow. I have some popping to do here. Stop talking."

"Yes, boss."

*

Pete spent half the next morning scowling at his sidekick and the other half scowling at Patrick.

"I had it all worked out, Patrick. I had my mom promise to take care of it. I was going to name it Beyonce! It would have been the first emo-hip-hop sheep."

"Too bad," Patrick hummed, remembering the way Andy had taken all his tense ends and stroked them into submission, leaving him drowsy and satisfied. Andy's mouth was the Eight Wonder. He had licked his own way into Andy's good books, making sure the drummer was as pliant as he was at the end of it all.

"I was going to buy it a big old clock necklace. Like Flavor Flav. Only without the clock. Maybe with a bunch of hay."

"That would have been nice," Andy said fondly, pinching Patrick's knee under the table as they sat close to each other. Pete looked a little hopeful while Patrick returned a vicious pinch. Joe gave them a squinty-eyed morning glance as they giggled.

"Do you think that you'll count more in, Patrick?" Pete was so hopeful but Patrick shook his head ruefully.

"Um...." Patrick refocused as Andy's hand traveled up his thigh. "No. That's a definite no."

"Yeah." Andy said agreeably as his hand cupped possessively over Patrick's groin; Patrick bit his lower lip. "Counting sheep is _so_ last year."


End file.
